His Smile
by lampshaded
Summary: 1x2. Heero contemplates his partner's expressions.


I can't understand my partner. Even after these years of us being pilots, then Preventers, and being constantly pulled side-by-side through life's hell, I can't understand him.

When I first got to know him, I was captured by his smile. And when I say that, I mean it annoyed me. It distracted me and confused me more than anything ever had.

When we were partnered for missions at schools, he would always smile at everyone around him. Students, teachers, even the security cameras that we walked by every day. It was always the same stupid grin, each time someone passed by.

I couldn't understand how he could smile all day when he knew he would be killing all night. But the morning after our missions, he would still have that same grin at anyone near enough to see it.

But what really confused me was when we were alone, in our dorm room. He would smile at me, but it would be an entirely different look than the one he sported in public. It was more of a smile that wasn't reflected in his eyes, as if someone had pasted a cut-out smile on the picture of a sad man. It was a fragile look, being held up by invisible wires.

Sometimes I would look up from my laptop to see him staring at me with that smile. I'd study his face and posture for a moment, then log it away in my mind and go back to the mission plans and news updates, ignoring the urge to look back at him. As long as they didn't endanger the mission, his personal issues didn't concern me.

At least, that's what I thought at the time.

One night, after a particularly rough mission, my view about him was changed. We were staying alone in a small house Quatre had arranged for us. We had it to ourselves for the night, then Quatre would join us sometime during the next day so that we three could plan out our next move.

The mission Duo and I had come from was a simple one, to destroy a cancer manufacturing plant. But the problem was the area was full of civilians.

I don't like missions like that one, but I've always treated them with a certain mindset: accomplish mission with minimal damage to the surrounding area. Unfortunately, the number of explosives we had to plant on the mobile suits and their surrounding structure didn't make for a small explosion.

But the mission was completed as planned, and I didn't want to think anything more of it. Duo, evidently, didn't have the same plan.

We stumbled into the dark house around midnight, unhurt but weary. The house was sparsely furnished with few, but quality, basics. Our bedroom held two twin beds with a bedside cabinet between them and a single lamp. The adjoining bathroom was small, but exquisite, with a large bath and shower. It seemed that Quatre, even while he was on missions, never chose to stay in less than desirable conditions when he could live in his normal luxury.

Anyway, it certainly looked good to me when I came in that night after the mission. Duo immediately sat on his bed's down comforter and proceeded to pull off his boots and socks. I paid him no heed as I headed to the bathroom; all I wanted was to shower off the smell of smoldering explosives and sleep.

When I came back out, Duo was still sitting where I'd left him. I should have paid more attention to him, but at the time I really didn't care. I figured he was as weary as I and spacing out. But when I told him that he could use the bathroom, he suddenly gave me that smile. It was slightly different than the usual one he gave only to me; his lips were more tightly pressed and the invisible wires holding them up seemed slightly thinned. But when he got up and shut the door behind him, I dismissed the thought and climbed into my bed.

I was thinking over our next mission with Quatre when my mind wandered to the fact I hadn't heard Duo come out of the bathroom yet. My internal clock told me he'd been in there more than his usual twenty minutes. So, I waited five more before I got up, turned the lamp back on, went to the door, and knocked.

The shower was still running, but I heard no sign of movement under it. Slightly confused, I knocked louder. Still no response. I opened the door a crack and spoke into the light that filtered through.

"Duo?" I asked, my hand still on the cool knob. The shower was the only sound that met my ears. Worried, I pulled out the small knife that I always carried in my sock and opened the door in one swift movement. If there had been any enemy in there, they would have fled or attacked at my first call, but I could never be too cautious.

But the bathroom looked normal, with a pile of black clothes on the toilet seat and a towel thrown haphazardly on the rug in front of the shower door. I quickly made my way to the shower and pulled it open, then blinked at what I found.

Duo was curled up on the shower floor with his unbound hair curtained around him, stuck to his skin and the floor beyond. His arms were tightly wound around his bent legs, with his head resting on his knees. I quickly replaced my knife in my sock and turned off the icy water that kept raining down on him.

"Duo?" I asked again, but he gave no response. He was still, breathing slowly but in small pants. Mentally cursing at myself for not noticing earlier, I sank down beside him.

Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his shoulders, I pulled his hair back and away from his hidden face. After laying my hand on his back, I gave him a small shake, but he sat still, unchanging. Another minute passed; the cold water around my feet began to chill me, and I made the decision to take him to somewhere more comfortable.

Slipping one arm under his bent legs and one around his back, I carefully picked him up and carried him to his bed. When I sat him down, he was still immobile, gripping his arms tightly around his legs with his face hidden as he lay on his side.

I stared at him for a minute; it wasn't like I knew what to do, so I followed my instincts. Grabbing another towel, I sat beside him and pulled his hair away from the already-damp covers. I figured that he didn't seem emotionally stable and being close to another person might upset him when he came to, so I drew the blanket over his body and sat at a reasonable distance beside him.

His hair was soft against my callused hands as I dried it and combed my fingers through it to get out the knots. Only after I'd finished did I realize his hands had relaxed their grip on his biceps and his body had become less tense.

I could have easily just left him and gone to my own bed to sleep off the weariness that was engrained into my bones, but instead I lay down in front of him. It was slightly cramped, with us both on a twin bed, but at the time I didn't care. Something was definitely wrong with Duo, and until it was resolved, I had a job to do. He was a crucial part of my missions, I thought to myself, and when one crucial part is lost, then all will fail.

I carefully pushed his arms down and was starting to press down his knees when he jumped. No, it wasn't really a jump; it was more like a shock that went through his body. He tensed, his head shooting up and his legs pressing against his body again. But his eyes, his eyes were what worried me the most. They almost scared me.

His blue-violet eyes were wide with fright as they burned into mine, but they held a different type of expression than I'd ever seen them have before; they almost looked empty. Without my consent, my own hand was reaching toward him and curving around his lower cheek. I didn't know what it was doing, but it seemed to have a better plan than what I could come up with. His eyes closed as his head turned into my palm, but a second later they were open again as he shot into a half-sitting position, clutching the towel tightly in front of him.

"Heero sorry, I, uh," he said in a too-loud voice, his eyes still wide. "Sorry, I, it's been a rough day, uh, guess I...uh, fell asleep in the shower," he finished lamely in a weaker voice, grinning at me with his mouth and pleading at me with his eyes.

"You didn't fall asleep," I countered in a soft tone; I wasn't going to be fooled by any of his strange charades.

The effect of my words was immediate. For the first time, I saw the thinning wires that held his smile up suddenly snap and his face crumble. His shining eyes couldn't meet mine, and his mouth curled into something half-grimace and half-smile.

"I'mm—mm, sorry," he nearly slurred, biting his lower lip and pulling the towel taut in his hands. A second later I could see his legs start to move, as he made to curl himself back up into that locked position. But I got to him first.

Pushing myself forward, I wrapped my arms around him tightly even as his legs pressed against mine, still trying to curl up. He was still for a moment as I said his name softly and pressed my forehead to his, looking into his panicked eyes. "Tell me."

He suddenly shook his head and pushed against my shoulders, fighting to get away like a frightened animal. But even as he kicked and tried to pry me away, I held on, only pulling him tighter. He started yelling, cursing me and anything else he could think of. Only after a few minutes did he relent when his voice finally cracked and he lost his strength.

His body just stopped moving and slumped to the bed, with one arm around my middle and his face hid in the crook of my neck, completely silent. It was completely new to me, his need of human contact, but for some reason I wasn't surprised. He always had an arm around my shoulders when he was relaxed, while we were walking.

But now was different; he needed, absolutely needed, to be close to someone. I could tell by how he gripped my shirt and how hard he pressed his face into my neck. After a moment, his breath shuddered against my collar and he made a sound in his throat, tugging on my shirt harder.

I was about to pull him away, in case he was having problems breathing, when he let out a long sigh. His warm tears ran across my neck silently as his breath continued to shudder. I just held onto him, ignoring the fact that I was decently uncomfortable with no idea what was going on. One of my hands kept running over the back of his head, softly touching his hair over and over.

"How many died tonight, Heero?" he asked suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. When I didn't answer, he gripped my shoulder tight enough that I knew there would be bruises. "Tell me," he persisted, pulling away. "How many did we kill?"

But I just looked at him, his eyes tinged with pink and his hair stuck to his tearstained cheeks.

"I don't know," my voice said. He blinked at that; he hadn't expected me to give him an answer. He didn't know that I hadn't either.

With a heavy sigh he rolled over, facing the wall, his back to me.

"It was a church," he said in an almost inaudible voice. "We blew up a church."

I immediately knew what he was talking about. There had been a church near the OZ factory on our mission tonight…a small church.

Even though he was turned away from me, I pulled him into my arms. He latched onto my wrist tight enough to slightly cut its circulation.

"It was a church," he repeated in a whisper.

"It was an empty church," I countered, keeping my voice as soft as his. But I knew he heard me; his breath caught and his body went rigid at my words. I touched his face, trying to calm his nerves. "Duo, it wasn't an orphanage. It wasn't a school. It was an empty church."

Slowly, he released his grip on my wrist and turned toward me with wide eyes.

"It was?" his choked voice asked. I nodded, combing his hair away from his face and out of his eyes as he stared at me. On impulse, I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his cheek. It wasn't much, but somehow I knew it was what he needed.

The next thing I registered was being hit in the chest, hard, by a human missile. He hugged me so hard; I swear I could feel my ribs fracturing. A moment later he pulled away just enough to look up at me.

Then he smiled.

And I mean he _really_ smiled; it wasn't his suspended-by-wires smile, nor was it his "C'mon, Heero, cheese for the security cam!" smile. No, it was entirely different. It was like his whole face lit up from the inside. If the one before had hung by wires, this one practically floated on its own.

I probably just stared at him; I was too busy contemplating his new facial expression to notice much else other than the silence, his stillness. He seemed perfectly content to lay there and run his fingers through the hair on the back of my head while I studied his face. I think he was still smiling when he fell asleep a few minutes later, but I may have just been dreaming.

See why it confuses me so much? It was that lousy grin—his stupid smile that started all of this, those years ago. Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I just don't understand how his infectious smile got my attention then or how it sometimes finds its way onto my own face now.

Maybe I never will.


End file.
